Agony in New Jersey
by ObsessiveCompulsiveTeaDrinker
Summary: Loki/Bartleby slash, following events after those which take place in the film. Pleasingly angsty. Other characters present as well including Metatron, Jay and Silent Bob and Bethany!
1. Chapter 1  A Genesis of Awakening

**Welcome to "Agony in New Jersey", a fanfiction of Dogma (a View Askew film by Kevin Smith), which follows the ex-angel of death Loki after the events which took place in the film. **

**Loki/Bartleby slash! :D**

**This is probably the highest rated fiction I have ever/will ever write. Be prepared for very profane language, romance, certain vague innuendo, drugs, violence, gore, angst and religious parody if that kind of thing upsets you, in the whole story. Just remember - God has a sense of humor too... Just look at the platypus!**

**Characters, basically everything owned by Kevin Smith. Including the last quote I referenced too. Heck, Kevin Smith owns my soul. Wait no, that's a lie. I already sold it to Satan for good school grades.**

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><p>Chapter 1 - The Genesis of Awakening<p>

Loki opened his eyes suddenly, and found himself staring up at a high light cream surface, feeling nauseous and dazed. He was lying on a small bed, and the walls of the chamber he was currently situated in were the same unadventurous shade as the ceiling. There was no other furniture in the room, and the general atmosphere was similar to that of a recently discarded cardboard box.

_Just like any good old Jersey Motel_, he thought.

Instinctively, his shivering hand felt for the stab wound in his side which he presumed would have killed him – after all, having spent much of his existence as the angelic equivalent of a hit-man, assuming whether a wound was mortal or not was not a particularly challenging task.

Then he thought back to the events that had happened, and the one who had done this to him. The name burned into his mind, a brand-mark on his soul, of which he would carry the burden eternally.

_Bartleby_.

He should never have thought about trusting that angel's word, and going against that of God's. And even if he did get on the right side of the other angel's again (the chances of which, he imagined, would be very slim), he knew all of them would know it was _him _who provoked God to enforce the ban that no angel should drink, amongst other new rules relating to his friendship with Bartleby.. Metatron would most certainly **not** be happy about that, considering how much he had enjoyed the wine Jesus had created from water at the wedding all those years ago.

But he ignored all the consequences and joined the rebellious angel, for a reason much more than the alcohol he had consumed that fateful day he was persuaded.

He remembered the last time he had seen Bartleby. Uncut wings had framed his beautiful form, and high above the church his breastplate shined like a silver sun through ruby-droplets of human blood. Finest marble could not hope to replicate his perfectly sculpted features. But he just couldn't agree with the atrocities that Bartleby was committing, a result of his human conscience having either improved or corrupted his angelic mind. His friend had simply gone too far.

He could have done it. He could have fought Bartleby. But then Bartleby had embraced him.

Loki wished that moment would last forever, with his friend's hand softly caressing the back of his neck, an alien yet familiar touch between angel and human. But then Bartleby reminded him of his new human faults, which would cause him to implement his next actions. As the knife buried itself in Loki's flesh, those words were uttered which still repeated themselves over and over in his head.

"You lost the faith".

He winced as he remembered the pain of the knife point's sudden blow into his all too vulnerable body, lasting for what seemed like hours, until it felt like the very core of his being was pierced by the cold metal of the weapon and Bartleby's cruel eyes.

He had grown to love those eyes, when they were soft and warm.

Then darkness had clouded his vision, and he could almost hear the clash of his metal breastplate against the hard ground, his life flickering away, like a ribbon caught in a gale, into the distance.

As their time progressed closer and closer to Jersey he could feel him becoming more callous and cold, until he could hardly tell him and the Morning Star apart with his blazing ambition and arrogant justifications. But his final glances only told of savage darkness, a lost angel slaughtering a weak human.

With this, he felt his eyes ache, and a deep grinding in his chest as Loki cried for the first time in an eternity. Trails like iridescent liquid emotion fell around his face. He turned and pushed his head into the pillow to sob and whimper to himself and the absent Bartleby who he, even still, loved passionately and yet hated deeply.

In anger he spun around and cracked his knuckles against the bed's wooden panel, but then collapsed on the bedsheets with exhaustion, softly and repetitively choking out his lost friend's name, with intermittent bursts of anger.

"_Bartleby. Bartleby... Why? _FUCKING WHY? Shit... I just want to know _why..."_

After a long while weeping and reflecting about how things could have been, Loki was tired and curled up silently, feeling the stinging sensation of tears drying on his face, and the rhythmical thrumming of a headache.

Angelic love is like no human love. It is pure, true, without any sexual lusts and desires. Refined, unforgettable _devotion,_ _compassion. _Though impossible, and could never last - as a slave can only have one master, an angel must only have God and no others. Angels never got much of a choice when it came to serving God like this. But that was the way of things. They were obliged to be servants, not asked to be, like humans.

But was he still angel? More memories came back to him. Did this mean he had a...

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed as he moved his hand down his body and quickly recoiled at the unfamiliarity of it's form. A wave of shock and surprise came over him as he realized how different being a human was than he had first expected when Bartleby constructed the plan, which had taken him to wherever he currently was.

Loki again ran his hand over his strangely alive skin where the blade had entered. But he felt nothing - not a blemish or scar was present on his flesh.

_Where am I?_ he pondered for a moment, and turned slightly to see a window with curtains drawn, letting a gentle hue of warm morning light through the material. He couldn't be in heaven, because the universe would have been non-existent should that have been the scenario. And he knew just from what he had heard that this probably wasn't hell.

Eventually curiosity had got the better of him, and hastily Loki began searching his back and shoulder blades for the bedraggled stumps of his late wings. As he uncloaked them, their pathetic forms became visible, but they were bandaged up well and there was a noticeably lacking amount of blood and loose feathers from where they had been hacked off, as though someone had taken reasonable care into helping him.

But all those hopes of the possibilities of who it could be dissolved when Jay and Silent Bob's faces appeared from around the door frame of the small room.

"Rise and shine featherbitch!" The slim blond grinned. Loki shuddered nervously, and with a hint of embarrassment when he saw them as he recalled the events prior to their arrival in Jersey. Being thrown out of a moving train is not something easily forgotten.

Although Loki did feel better when he remembered disagreeing with Bartleby's plan to destroy them all, that was swiftly put aside when Silent Bob narrowed his eyes aggressively at the former angel.

"Fuck, me and lunchbox here never thought you'd wake up. I swear to God, that Metafuck guy's got some seriously fucked-up shit to explain to you – Hell, I haven't got a clue what this is about." Then, after a short silence, he seemed to lose interest. "What you lookin' at, tubby bitch?" he said turning to Bob, who raised his expressive eyebrows. "Come on, let's go to the Quick Stop."

The prophets then left, and there was a small gap of time between the click of the closing door and the sound of a lock being turned. No point of trying to leave the room then.

Loki exhaled, relieved to be back to his own thoughts, and closed his tired eyes to fight an oncoming migraine. He imagined that this is how humans feel when experiencing a hangover.

_Great. _He sighed as he remembered the bottle of wine. He had drunk it to ease the pain while Bartleby had comforted him as, using the same knife that he would use to stab him, he cut the tendons in his uncloaked wings. Bones cracked and feathers fell, soaking his back with blood, until both landed on the ground with a sickening thud. Bartleby then had marched around the side of the church and on returning had found the cowering Cardinal, and gave him the bottle which he had found with him.

It wasn't much, but it didn't take much for Loki to feel the effects of alcohol. Or trust in Bartleby, helplessly ignorant of what his friend was to do.

Thoughts like these plagued his mind like thousands of buzzing locusts. He tried to banish them, to finally rest in the quiet of the room.

But just when he thought he was alone, he heard the Voice of God.


	2. Chapter 2  Flames of Refinement

**Chapter two is here! Be prepared for a LOT of Metatron dialogue - well he is the voice of God.**

**Kevin Smith owns characters and everything. I own nothing except a laptop with which I write these chapters and my sanity - Oh wait, never mind. Just a laptop.**

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><p>"Well, look at you then." came the all-too-familiar voice of Metatron. "Loki, the angel of death. Didn't even get a chance to see you before that idiot Bartleby had done a Judas, or so I've heard."<p>

Loki stared, eyes wide, and did not know how to respond to the seraph. It seemed like a lot happened at the incident which he was unaware of, and he tried to gather his thoughts to explain them. But he could recall nothing.

"...You don't know, do you?" blandly stated Metatron, who tiresomely rolled his eyes, and sighed.

Loki spoke, with clenched jaw and curled toes as to prevent himself from breaking down in the confusion of the situation. To stop himself crying at his own words.

"What happened?.."

He fought back tears as he imagined the many different possibilities of what could have taken place. Loki found himself worrying about the fate of Bartleby. He knew it was irrational, and that he should hate him, but still he feared his friend was hurt. These new human emotions had made ancient, buried feelings finally surface, as he thought of love, hate and fear.

Metatron seemed to see this, and raised a dark eyebrow."Everything... Alright?"

Loki looked up at him, with an expression of hurt and fear,

"Fine, here's what happened..." Began Metatron, hesitantly.

He explained everything, until the return of God. Then he knew he was eventually nearing the time it would hurt to tell Loki of, and it pained even Metatron to recall it. But it was his job to inform people of the words that God herself could not say without the mortal consequences, however good or bad.

Loki tried his best to remain expressionless, but it was getting harder for him to hide his emotions as Metatron told him of Bartleby's fate. He drew in a sharp take of breath, and bit down on his lip until he could taste the metallic human blood in his saliva, which was his own.

Metatron was silent. Loki could almost feel his eyes watching him, scrutinizing every movement, interpreting what he was seeing. And making his own judgment on the matter.

Loki tried to speak – but could not, as he felt his emotions crush his neck like a noose. He looked back at the single window. The soft, warm light radiated through the curtain. He did not even glance at Metatron, but slowly got up and limped over to the glow that shone through the curtains. He gripped the material with the intention of seeing a new dawn behind it.

"Excuse me?" Interrupted Metatron. "You might want to listen to this bit. There are several more matters of which I wish to explain, which, trust me, you would want to listen to... Unlessyouwantto ..." He mumbled.

"Wha?" Loki panicked, attempting to decipher what Metatron had said. Spending an eternity anywhere aside from heaven was not the kind of thing that he wished to do with his time. "Where... Am I?

_Silence._

"Well why don't you look then?"Metatron exclaimed, with a raised voice, gesturing towards the window. "Unbelievable, you can spend several thousands of years on earth with little to do with your time but slaughter in the hope of redeeming yourself, try to get back into heaven whilst simultaneously trying to evade the view of both the inhabitants of Heaven and Hell, almost succeed, and yet still have as much common sense as an overripe grapefruit. Now just open those curtains and see for yourself before I get any more pissed off."

At this, Loki again held the curtain material, and, hesitantly at first, drew them back to reveal, through the single-glazed glass, what lay on the other side.

But there was no sunrise that he had expected.

It was difficult to see the landscape which lay ahead of him, as flickers of what looked like liquid fire trickled down the glass' surface like raindrops after a storm. When he saw through this, he witnessed what looked like a fairly average city, but with the same fiery precipitation falling from the grey, featureless sky, collecting on the sidewalks in puddles, and flowing down into drains. He gasped as he spied a woman walking, unnerved by the tiny, fluid tongues of flame which fell on her and rolled down her skin, leaving her unharmed. Carefully, he opened the latch of the window and cautiously stretched out an arm. A few drops fell onto his skin and he flinched – but the liquid fire was cool. This perplexing juxtaposition troubled him.

Then, he felt ice-cold. He knew this place. Where there was neither the spotless pure nor the tainted rejections, just souls in the process of cleansing. Where there are those too innocent to be cast away yet currently too sinful to enter the gates of Heaven.

"Welcome to Purgatory." declared Metatron. Loki's eyes widened.

"I can't stay here forever! This is a place for temporary punishment, redemption and cleansing, not for eternal existence.

"And Hell was a pit for Satan to be cast into. But that doesn't stop others from ending up there too." stated Metatron blandly. "Look, here's how it is. You have a choice, like you and Bartleby always wanted. You can either stay here and dwell in purgatory forever like you are now. Or, there is another option, should you be willing to listen..."

Loki looked hopeful at this.

"You can return to earth, as human – you will be very mortal and have the benefits and downfalls of no longer being of angelic existence. However, should you choose this option, the more you redeem yourself, the faster your wings will return – but you will by no means be angel again, as your original wings are gone. How you use them is your own choice. Yes, you make the decisions this time Loki. Independently. And this will determine what happens after the end..."

"End of what?" murmured Loki, tearing his eyes away from the unfamiliar scene outside the window to face the seraph, as though he, deep in his thoughts, knew what the answer really was.

"Sweet Jesus! It's easy to tell you're one of them now, with all your questions!" Metatron again irritably rolled his eyes. "Look, if you really want to know what will happen..." He leaned closer to Loki, as if there was another presence in the room which he did not want to hear his words. "Wormwood will fall."

"The star of the Revelation? In the Armageddon?" Loki looked extremely panicked.

"Oh work it out for yourself." And with this, Metatron threw Loki a large, pewter-coloured key on an old, tarnished-looking chain. "To open the pale doors, to find your own way. This will only work for a limited amount of time. So choose it wisely."

"Metatron – what happened, or, will happen to Bartleby? Because I've lost track of where this shit leaves him – or me – ages ago."

"As I said. Work it out for yourself. It's up to you to make your own decisions now." said the Voice.

And then Metatron was gone.

Loki looked at the door to the room. He then glanced back at the key.

"Let's hope this door's pale enough..." he whispered to himself.


	3. Chapter 3 The Pale Doors

**Here is chapter three, and things are finally starting to happen. Although it is shorter than the last two chapters this one took a little longer to write because of a combination of procrastination, art orders and a wasp sting that I had a bad reaction to. Joy of joys.**

**I don't own the characters, Kevin Smith does, blah blah blah. But I do now own a copy of Dogma on DVD which I bought from the internet for just under £4. Hooray!**

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><p>As soon as Loki placed the key in the keyhole, the pale door easily opened and as he stepped through he found himself in a familiar New Jersey street – one which he and Bartleby had passed by on the way to the church.<p>

As the events of that day were irrevocable, so were his horrific memories incessant.

Feeling apprehensive, he swerved around to look back for the door. But it had vanished.

The sun was slightly lower in the sky than midday, and thus the afternoon was beginning to cast shadows behind him.

As he surveyed the area around himself, he caught sight of Jay and Silent Bob – the tall, loudmouthed blond was preoccupied dealing weed to some teenagers, while the shorter man soundlessly pulled out a lighter, ready to prepare a cigarette.

Instantaneously Loki was nervous with dread, as he remembered the less than altruistic behavior shown by the pair during their previous encounter in purgatory.

_How, and why, did those guys get in there anyway?_ thought Loki.

At that moment, Silent Bob noticed Loki's presence and, procrastinated away from his cigarette, which he held redundantly in his hand. He urgently jabbed Jay with his elbow, who was non-responsive at first, but then turned sharply towards the repetitive annoyance.

"Seriously, what the fuck's gotten into you lunchbox?"

Bob gestured towards Loki. Jay grinned.

"Well look at this fucker here! Larry's back!"

"How did you get into _purgatory_? And why?" Loki swiftly interrupted, despite his nervousness, to try and prevent the torrent of profanity he predicted would swiftly follow.

"Purgatory? What the fuck's that? Isn't it something about where dead babies go and shit? And why are you even here anyway? And what was up with those doors? I ain't ever gonna get a straight answer from that British motherfucker in the suit. He just told me and lunchbox to keep checkin' until you were awake. Some boring shit that turned out to be, but we figured it was important since it had somethin' to do with God. And we ain't risking going through shit like what happened back at that Church again when everything all goes wrong, no matter how much we want to kick your sorry ass for shoving Bethany like that back then, and for being a fuckin' chicken."

Silent Bob looked at Loki disdainfully then glanced back at Jay, nodding briskly in agreement. Jay continued. "I don't have all the answers, I don't even know why you ended up in wherever-the-fuck that was in the first place."

Loki was beginning to lose his temper. "Fuck you man, you don't _have_ to know what purgatory is - all I wanted to hear was how _you_ two of all people got in there! Just to give me some kind of an indication as to what the fuck is actually going on! Look – you mentioned someone telling you to check – was that the Metatron?"

Jay looked at Silent Bob. Silent Bob shrugged back at him.

"The Metatron? The Voice? Seraphim? Highest choir of angels? Any of this ringing some kind of bell?"

"Oh yeah, he did say something about that!" replied Jay victoriously, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. "Gave us this stupid key as well. Thing's useless now. Try opening a lock with this piece of shit."

He held up what used to be a key which, still attached to a pewter-coloured chain, had seemingly changed from it's usual metallic state to that of a rather enigmatic material - a dark, crumbly substance similar to ash or charcoal.

To confirm this, Silent Bob tapped one of the ends and the entire object disintegrated into a powder which fell to the asphalt.

"Tubby bitch! What the fuck did you do that for!"

Loki knew by now that this was all the information he would be able to glean from the prophets, and turned away to wander the streets of Jersey truly alone – something which he hadn't been in a long while.

The sun was even lower now, the sky painted with a golden and scarlet. The colours of the sky almost reminded him of the Dead Sea sunset, one which Loki and Bartleby had become accustomed to, as they were often sent by God herself to work in places near the shore of the lake. Light had scattered off of crystal salt on the shore, and glittered on the barren but beautiful waters whose azure tints juxtaposed the sandy, terranean colours of the surrounding arid landscape.

But this wasn't the old days of the Dead Sea, and there was no one with him this time. No one at all. He had at first considered heading somewhere, but forgot where he had in mind a long time ago, and was with no intention of finding a goal.

After many hours of walking, Loki staggered along the side of a long, wide road edged with fields and natural scenery, staring into the darkening distance as the sun set.

Then, he was startled slightly by something, far off in the distance. A dark silhouette of a human seemed to form, but it was unclear to make out which direction they were going in, let alone their identity. And the fading light made it all the more ambiguous. It was difficult to distinguish whether or not the shadow was even a person at all, or merely some kind of mirage, an illusion of the dusk coupled with many hours of walking.

As he continued, the vague shape become the form of a man. This worried Loki – he hadn't seen anyone along this stretch of road since he began his aimless pilgrimage across New Jersey. He set his eyes on them, and concentrated on focusing to try and read their identity and intentions as much as he could. Their head was lowered slightly as they stared at the ground just in front of them, much how Loki had spent a majority of his journey until this point.

The sun cast it's last few rays out over the land, and the unidentified man looked up, then noticed Loki walking there in the remaining light. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Loki.

The former angel of death gasped. Panicking, he rapidly turned and sprinted in the other direction, instantly acting on the fear and confusion that coursed through him. Was he running after him? He couldn't turn back to check... Suddenly his already weak legs gave way, and the velocity of the fall carried him several feet before Loki crashed into the ground and was almost instantly jolted into unconsciousness.

But not before he faintly heard a familiar voice shouting, "LOKI!"


	4. Chapter 4 A Single Flesh

**I'm back! Sorry for the huge gap of time, I've been very busy with art commissions and coursework. Plus, school's just started again :( . *sigh* . I'll have less time, but there will be more to come. The story's gone a bit more fluffy than I wanted it too – this will be amended by some actual storyline soon, so don't panic.**

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><p>Even before Loki had gained the privilege of complete consciousness, he could almost tell that he did not feel in a particularly good condition. His entire body felt bruised and damaged, especially his left arm, which thousands of painful twinges shook as his twitched the obviously wounded limb which was lying beside him. The intense pain made his closed eyes water beneath their lids, and his breath shudder.<p>

"Don't move, it's fractured." A voice above him murmured. There was a brief pause. "Loki..." it spoke gently.

After a long wait, he slowly blinked his eyes to try opening them, and attempt to clear the blurriness from his vision. Morning light shone and again his previous migraine began to return, although this time much worse, the brightness aching his eyes and his ears pounding continuously. But what shocked him more was his arm, the first thing he gazed upon. Most of the skin was badly grazed, but it was not this that disturbed him the most - it was twisted into an unnatural angle and was horribly bruised, next to his broken body.

"Loki?"

The enigmatic voice spoke again, soft yet seemingly sounding increasingly concerned. Loki steadily moved his head ever so slightly to look up at the being knelt over him.

Even the most subtle of movements hurt. His bones were shattered glass within his mortal human flesh. For a moment, when his aching head did not allow him to immediately recognize the anxious face staring down at him, he felt oddly comforted by the person's presence.

Then, within a few seconds, he came slightly more to his senses. And then he remembered.

_The room, purgatory, the pale doors, New Jersey, the walk, the road, the fall..._

_Bartleby_

Loki gasped in fright and confusion, and tried as much as he could to make use of the last of his strength, crawling away desperately from the angel, but his broken arm buckled violently under even the slightest weight. Pain, both physical and psychological burned through him, and hot tears streamed from his stinging eyes.

As he scrambled away from the one who had stabbed him, he looked into those eyes once more. They were neither the eyes of the Bartleby he knew before, nor those which he had bore during the events which occurred at the church. There was something different in those eyes.

Dark, tear stained and tired, he saw desperation, reflection, an inward stare which is rarely seen but instantly recognizable._ Sadness_. Bartleby fell to his knees and reached out a shivering hand as Loki tried to escape, and it was then that Loki saw the torrents of tears which covered Bartleby's face as well. Then, seeing this, he stopped, still trying to use a deadweight arm to hold himself up.

"Loki!" Bartleby cried, the third time Loki had heard him say his name, and collapsed, convulsing with streams of tears.

"I'm sorry... I'm... So sorry..." He whimpered

Loki summoned the last vestiges of his strength left, and shook as he stumbled on to his feet, with injured, quivering knees. He painfully made his way over to the weeping Bartleby, soundlessly. Kneeling gently down beside him, Loki laid a hand on his shoulder, but was still unsure whether or not he was making a rational decision. But he was not ready to rationalize. He didn't want to. He was with Bartleby again. When he thought back to the ceaseless pain he felt when Bartleby had stabbed him, and when he was so alone without him by his side, _what did anything else matter. _He knew that it was only rational to reject him for what he did, but his mind clouded with cognitive dissonance.

"I'm... I'm... Sorry too, man... But it doesn't matter anymore, we're together again. It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters! I've done every fucking thing wrong, can't you see?" Bartleby spat.

"Shit, I'm trying to be the voice of reason here." Loki retorted. "Stop asking for self fucking pity, I was the victim! Why did you do it Bartleby? Why the fuck did you do it?"

"Maybe I don't know! Maybe it was fear of a conscience, another human. Maybe it was just the whole confusion, a myopic, irrational, shit decision! No, it's more than that - I can't understand it now, I don't _want_ to make excuses for myself! This whole fucking thing was a mistake. And it's my fault. Nor did God show me any kind of fucking mercy. Do you know what I asked for? What I thought She might just do, which at that moment I knew I so very wanted? Elimination, removal, an end to all this. No other life or afterlife in which I could hurt you again. I've already made you lose everything, and ruined my own existence. So I guess this is my very own terrible, fucking punishment"

With painful limbs Loki slowly stood up again, although even he himself knew he was barely able to walk for more than a few steps, even if he tried.

"Wait. Loki! Don't leave me again!" came the voice of Bartleby from behind him. "...You're hurt."

Loki halted and turned his head slightly. "Why would you care?"

"Do I have to give a reason for everything?" Bartleby looked down towards the road, gradually becoming warmed bu the morning sun. "You're hurt." He repeated.

There was a pause, before Bartleby glanced up

Loki smiled wearily, at him, then lost his balance and wobbled slightly. Bartleby smiled back. "You can't just walk off like _that_, my simple creature."


End file.
